Altered
by PimaBean
Summary: He remembers exactly what brought them here. Rated T for cursing, violence and minor disturbing themes.
1. Shot like a bird

_On broken wings I'm falling  
And it won't be long  
The skin on me is burning  
By the fires of the sun  
On skinned knees  
I'm bleeding  
And it won't be long  
I've got to find that meaning  
I'll search for so long_

_- Alter Bridge, Broken Wings_

_

* * *

_

The ship was crumbling from the outside in, pieces of alien metal falling from higher and lower levels, occasionally taking down some of the few still-living crew. _If you could call them that, _Jim thought. The end was coming, closer and closer, and it was just so fucking ironic wasn't it? His dad dies taking out the enemy ship, and he's going to die on one. _The_ one, the ship that's threatened the universe, the Narada that's already destroyed Vulcan… and he's going to die on it. Fucking _brilliant_.

He remembers exactly what brought them here. He's covering Pike, and blood (not his own) is dripping from the older man's body. He can't even manage a brief "Oh, _fuck!_" before Romulans are swarming them and he's simultaneously shoving Pike away to safety, shooting with the trigger set to kill, and waiting, just waiting. _There!_ his mind screams, and he shoots the last Romulan square in the chest, the alien falling to the ground in a motionless heap. "I've got your signal!" his communicator screeches, and he desperately wants to laugh but knows if he starts he may never stop.

"Scotty. Tell Bones… I'm sorry."

And he's launching himself at Nero (the bastard), and Pike manages to let out a hoarse yell of "Jim!" before he's blinking out of the Narada and onto the Enterprise, and it hurts to know Jim will never captain it.

* * *

Pike materializes in the transporter room, and he can vaguely hear himself letting out the rest of the scream he'd been holding in, arms out in an achingly similar way to Spock's just (hours? days?) before, until he collapses with tears of fatigue, pain and loss. Scotty's gaping slightly, and Spock's materializing beside him, discreetly letting out a breath. The half-Vulcan doesn't even glance around - too caught up in the moment - and he starts running, and Pike_ knows_ he'll blow up the Narada unless he gets there first. With a burst of adrenaline, he gets up shakily, stumbling at first before surging forward like death's on his tail- and it is. Just not his.

Spock makes it first (the universe loves to fuck with Jim, doesn't it) and he doesn't acknowledge the sneering face of Nero on the screen, he just says in that (horrible damning) calm tone, "Fire all weapons." and all Pike hears is _Jim's_ scream before the screen dies and they're looking at the Narada's crumbling form (like a shot bird), and then Pike's the one screaming, just yelling "Jimjimjim" over and over, until his cries taper off with the hiss of a decompressed hypo, and everything fades.

* * *

He really shouldn't let the ramblings of a previously tortured (broken tired sad) Captain get to him, but Pike's soon quieted with a hypo and he hears himself giving orders to get the hell out of here. But the man's words plant a seed of doubt in his mind. It sprouts, and grows into a sapling as Scotty runs onto the Bridge, panting, eyes glistening unsettlingly (shock worry panic), with his soft whisper of "No…" that makes the room freeze. The crew stares at him as the ship jumps to warp, and Scotty shakes slightly. This really shouldn't get to him, but he's at the engineer's side and asking in a soft, _almost_ trembling voice, "What?" and the man starts out of his shock. "He was on the ship. He was on the ship_ and I couldn't save him!_" His whispers have become shouts, and Spock realizes - belatedly - that McCoy is in a corner, holding up Pike's unconscious form, and the tree of doubt is full and green before it explodes into emotions (horror hatred hurt) he should be ashamed of, but he can't seem to find the energy. Scotty's turning to the doctor (Bones Bones Bones) and he's speaking now, a shattered expression on his face. "He told me to tell you… he was sorry."

McCoy let out a choked sob and slid to the floor, taking Pike with him, and Spock feels an illogical need to copy the movement.


	2. Planet Lockdown

_Life is a waterfall,  
we're one in the river,  
and one again after the fall._

_Swimming through the void  
we hear the word,  
we lose ourselves,  
but we find it all..._

_Cause we are the ones that want to play,  
always want to go,  
but you never want to stay._

_And we are the ones that want to choose,  
always want to play,  
but you never want to lose._

_- Aerials, System of a Down_

_

* * *

_

The first thing he's aware of, other than an overwhelming sense of panic, is that he's underneath something… and it's hot, _hotter than natural_, and the terrain digging into the back of his head and the pain pulsating from his lower half is _cold. Ice cold._ The second thing he realizes is that, one, he can't remember his name. Two - he can't remember anything else, either. _Well, at least I'm not dead._

Alright, two more facts down: he'd probably been a humorous person up until now. He probably didn't have major head trauma. _Head trauma? Maybe I was a doctor._

List of things he was/had been: humorous, and/or a doctor._ Progress…_ And this time he spoke out loud, his voice rough, like he hadn't talked for days (and from what he knew so far, that could well be true). His mouth felt like someone had forced him to eat bloody sand - all metallic and gritty. His eyes were dry, and he blinked experimentally, thrilled when he discovered he could see. Not _well,_ as a large piece of greenish metal was lying across the lower half of his body (must be what's causing the pain), but well enough to realize that he's in deep shit. Wherever he was, it was snowing, and if he didn't get up and to shelter soon, he'd most likely die of hypothermia before he bled out. _Bled out?_ He realized that the snow (white – pure - clean) around him is speckled with a mixture of blood, shrapnel and embers (terror – horror… make it go away) and he really doesn't want to do this, but if he just sits here he'll have a one-hundred percent chance of death. So slowly, agonizingly slowly, he twitches his fingers, pushes his arms up, grasps the metal, and breathes. One, two, three, four…

**Heave.**

The metal budges slightly, and it's hard not to scream from frustration and pain. One, two, three, four…

**Heave.**

It gives a bit more, and _thank God_ the hunk of hellish plating is cooling from the snow, no longer burning his hands (the air smelled like a massacre).

One more time… One, two, three, four…

**Heave!**

The metal gives way with a sickening crackle, and he can finally feel his hips, legs, feet, _toes_ again. _At least they're not gone._ Heh. Maybe he'd been a smartass before now, too. And before he can hazard a try at getting up, a buzzing fills his ears, and a scream that makes him cringe until he realizes he's making it.

* * *

Miletus had always been a quiet child, preferring to read on the playground, rather than actually interact with anyone. His mother, a rather over-kind nurse, had asked him once, _"Why don't you play with any of your classmates?"_ He had looked up from his book (an ancient, battered copy of Old Yeller), frowned slightly, and simply replied that books were everything he needed. At age fourteen, he'd already heard reports of the Tarsus IV massacre, and was inspired to get into a medical career. However, while he had the intellect, he didn't have the patience… and he also had a large amount of bloodlust. His teachers recommended getting a degree in Engineering, and after a month of badgering from both them and his mother, he'd finally given in.

Another ten years, and he was successfully accepted into Starfleet, ready and willing to help others in any way he could. The now twenty-four year old was assigned to Science Colony #02749, stationed on a small trading planet's moon, which was suspected to be full of new specimens of every sort. However, within weeks of landing, the odd engineer here and there began disappearing, and slowly, his fellow workers were having trouble keeping the engines (keeping the colony heated and with oxygen) up and running. Four months into the scheduled five years they were supposed to be there for, the engines overheated, causing a massive power failure. Miletus, a man by the name of Eratos, and a genius fifteen-year old named Rizo were the only ones there when the whole of Mechanics Wing A exploded. Miletus shoved Eratos away from the blast, but Rizo was thrown back into the wall, hitting with a sharp _crack!_ and a thump. Adrenaline pumped into his system, and Miletus grabbed Eratos by the biceps, pulling the older man out of the burning and crumbling sector. He shoved his mentor (and thankfully himself) into an escape pod just as Mechanics Wing B detonated, the force of it many times greater than the first explosion. It rocked their pod, and he gently strapped Eratos into the passenger seat before getting into his own, and watching in terrified fascination as almost everyone he'd known from age twenty to twenty-four went up in smoke and fire.

It really could have been worse. He could have been executed, tortured, any number of sick, twisted things, but they'd simply stared at him. Once he weakly, _numbly _handed one of the officers the beaten body of one his only living friends, they'd glared at him (eyes so _cold_), and stated in calm, robotic voices that he was sentenced to the minimum of thirty years on "Planet Lockdown". At least, that's what the security teams called it. Officials called it Invictus II.

His routine was simple these days. At age twenty-five, he'd already scratched a year off of his sentence, and it'd been a lot like the priests in his hometown had described hell. Except colder. He'd replaced the old "volunteer" here (unwanted), and that meant absolutely _no_ human contact. The only thing that made him remember his own humanity were the monsters outside (and inside), and a holovid from his mother, saying her last goodbyes before he was shipped off to lockdown. Therefore, he was very, _very_ surprised to hear the sound of falling metal one morning, subsequently causing him to spill his tea all over the security robot he'd been repairing. Thinking fast, he grabbed his gear, taking his newly upgraded padding (in case of monster attack; he didn't want to know what lived on this godforsaken planet), and ran out the door, leaving the only non-injured security drone slightly confused. After all, his routine hadn't changed since he'd arrived. He'd get up; brush the rat's nest he called his hair, and proceed to drink what the drone suspected was spiked tea. He'd eat his ration for the day (sometimes nothing at all), and then he'd hole himself up in his room, tinkering with what he called Nanobots. His sudden change in behavior was… note-worthy, to say the least.

Miletus was a good person, really. He found useless violence distasteful, he'd prayed every night since he was four, and he tried not to sin… but he'd been born with an inconvenient amount of bloodlust. His roommates in the 'Fleet had been disturbed by blood, gore, death even? He'd been… interested. Not sexually (although the thought of a living, bleeding partner was slightly tantalizing), but rather, fascinated. Every known species was different, both outside - and in. Most 'normal' people were interested in testing, tasting, touching the outside of humans (or aliens). He, who had always been categorized as a 'weird' person, simply wanted to test, taste, and touch the _inside._

Thus, a dilemma when he reached the scene of the fallen… airship, he'd guess. His senses were overloaded by the scent of burned flesh, and the metallic tang of blood. He heard a scream emit from underneath a particularly large piece of metal, and cringed as it slid off the broken body of… a human? How did a _human_ survive the crash? Shaking off _that_ thought for later, he moved closer, maneuvering around shrapnel and large alien-looking metal chunks of starship, reaching the boy in no time (and it was most definitely a boy). He'd had blonde hair (now stained with his own blood and slightly charred) and apparently been… Starfleet. A captain, from the look of his gold shirt. Sighing internally at his luck, Miletus took a quick stock of the man's injuries. Most likely broken ribs, a minor concussion, and his lower body looked crushed. Probably broken legs, maybe a fractured femur… _God, let there be no damage to the spine._

Stepping around the plating the captain had pushed off, Miletus grabbed the man by the biceps (so reminiscent of when he'd saved Eratos) and dragged him up slowly, trying to make sure his legs weren't traumatized any more. That done, he slung the man over his shoulder, seeing that, from this angle, he looked more like a boy than a man (perhaps his age?)… and he was bleeding from the ears. _Shit._


	3. Not Hercules

_Pardon me while I  
Just turn my back  
And walk away  
Pardon me if I  
Can't listen  
To the things  
You say  
Pardon me if I  
Can't fake it  
While you still believe  
Pardon me_

_I'm two steps  
From salvation  
But I'm only  
Taking one  
Pardon me_

_- Pardon Me, Staind_

_

* * *

_

Well, Super Ultra Sexy Spockfish and Black-Dirge, you got your wishes. c;

* * *

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed with a blurred sense of balance was that he was lying down, belly up, on a scratchy cot that smelled like dust. The second, a man who looked around his twenties with a haggard expression and sad eyes was seated in a rolling chair across from him. As his vision finally stopped shaking, he could focus more on what was around him- a tiny room, with bland standard issue wallpaper and a metal table, scratched, dinged and with what looked like chemical burns covering it. The air smelt of snow, acid and herbal tea and he twitched his hands and feet experimentally. The action made pain lance up his limbs like quicksilver, making him yelp out of instinct. The man jumped, cursing loudly as whatever he'd been working on let out an annoyed metallic whistle. He rubbed a hand over his face, turning in his chair to face him with a half grumpy, half relieved look. "Finally, you're up. Have a good nap, sleeping beauty?" He snorted, wincing as the action caused his face to throb. The man seemed to take pity on him, rolling closer and grabbing a washcloth from an ice-filled bucket, dabbing it across his forehead. "Shouldn't move; it'll only make the pain worse." The stranger frowned, eyes darting over his body with almost a medical man's efficiency. "I don't know how in the hell you survived a fall like that, but someone must be watching out for you," he commented as he pushed off the side of the bed and got up, chuckling as what he'd been working on (from this angle it looked like a… robot?) screeched and whirred at his disturbance. "Honestly, bloody machines are testier than me, and I've been here longer than they have."

His eyes flicked over the man's face, and he swallowed, trying to work up the energy to speak. "Who… who are you?" His voice was sandpaper dry and cracked in the middle, but it was better than nothing.

The doctor (for that's truly what he seemed to be) considered his words, before sighing and running a rough hand through his unruly hair. "Name's Miletus, Miletus Bochco. And you? Can you remember anything?" He thought about it, only coming up with images of icy wasteland and the smell of acrid metal. "No." Miletus huffed, mumbling a gruff "That figures." As he grabbed his tea and gulped it noisily. "Well, we'll just have to give you a name, then. From the looks of it, you were in Starfleet."

The name rang a bell, but that bell was dim and cracked. "Don't give me a stupid name," he whispered with a tiny lopsided grin, holding back another wince as he felt his lips split.

"Fine then. We'll call you… Rizo."

He didn't have the willpower to hold back a disbelieving laugh.

Miletus sat him up in bed, holding a bowl of soup with a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving expression. "You're not Hercules, kid, no matter how much you resemble him. You can't just walk this kind of trauma off."

He swallowed the natural response of "I know that," sparing a glance down at his bandaged and plastered legs. "Yeah, so you've told me, Mil."

The doctor snorted, rolling his eyes with a slightly fond smile. "Right, no need to get snarky, Riz. Now, do you really want to try to eat this and end up spilling it all over yourself, or do you want me to help you?"

He narrowed his eyes, and Miletus was once again struck by just how _blue_ they were. "Fine, doc, but don't nag me if I end up spitting it on you."

Miletus pouted, grumbling as he ladled some of the soup into his new-found patient's mouth. "Doc? I'm no doctor, kid, I'm an engineer."

He had to make a conscious effort not to choke on the soup, or he would have suffered a terrible and very sad fate. "An _engineer_?"

Miletus shrugged, shutting him up with another spoonful. "Yeah, an engineer. You know, someone who works on machines?"

He outright glared this time, swallowing the liquid and licking his lips angrily. "I'm not stupid, you know. I just have amnesia."

Miletus raised both eyebrows, smiling. "Oh? Maybe _you_ were the doctor. I never told you that you have amnesia."

He pondered this possibility, remembering that he'd wondered about it before. "Might be. When I first woke up, I realized I had head trauma right away."

Miletus outright grinned now, an excited glimmer lighting up his eyes. "I could use a doctor. Although, I doubt it, from your uniform when you came to."

He blinked, coughing harshly as he finally choked on his soup. "_Uniform? _What uniform?"

Miletus grinned innocently, blinking with a rather odd version of doe eyes. "Oh? Did I forget to mention? You had the Captain's uniform."

And that's where he fainted.

* * *

Things were not looking good on the Enterprise. For one, the Narada had managed to sufficiently damage their ship, and without backup (which was short in stock due to all of the losses) they would only make it to the nearest base in a week and a half. Limping? Hell, they were barely _crawling_ by now. The crew had a sullen air about them, their spirits deadened by both loss of life and hope. After all, with this amount of casualties, it reminded one of the ancient World Wars on Earth. It was too shocking, too fast for all of them- especially for one doctor by the name of Leonard McCoy. It was easier for everyone else, in all honesty, even if that made him sound conceited as hell. They'd known Jim for, what, a few years as the screw-up and a few minutes as the hero? He'd known him longer than that; more importantly, he'd known him better than that. His absence was like a seething orb of acidic biting pain, sitting right in his chest and gnawing away at his emotions. Seeing the crew only made it worse, as they grieved for lives lost on their own while keeping a calm, professional shell. Well, excuse him if he couldn't take it! Couldn't take that final scream, couldn't take the sound of crumbling metal, couldn't take it as half of the Narada disappeared into a black hole and the other half floated in tiny bits and pieces, couldn't take the fact that his best friend was _dead, _and all because one stupid fucker could keep a grudge for longer than an eternity. As he stared at the sleeping body of Captain Pike, his mind wandered over all of this, and he couldn't stop it, cursed to let it happen like a trainwreck.

The worst thing, however, was most definitely Spock. Spock, sitting prim and pretty in the Captain's chair with not a flinch at any of this, Spock with his calm and cold orders and lack of any shown emotion. It pissed him off majorly, to see someone so naturally collected that not even this could shake him. He'd reacted for his planet, hadn't he? Why couldn't he react for _Jim?_

Whatever anyone might think, Spock was reacting. However, it would be irresponsible to blatantly show his inner emotions when he had the role of Captain now. He needed to be stronger than that, needed to hold on to the slipping threads of sanity longer than anyone else. Even though he might seem like he could silently let the subject of all of this death slide off into the dark, he couldn't. It just wasn't in him, as a, dare he say it, person. It wasn't right to never acknowledge the weight of the lives lost, not correct to pretend they never existed- even if that would make it easier. And so, he kept the look and attitude, and left himself to burn from the inside out.


	4. Out of the ordinary

_Good morning day  
Sorry I'm not there  
But all my favorite friends  
Vanished in the air  
It's hard to fly when you can't even run  
Once I had the world, but now I've got no one_

_- Drown, Three Days Grace_

_

* * *

_

Thank you everyone who has reviewed! I extremely appreciate the support, and will try and upate as frequently as possible. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Rizo was shaken awake by a frantic looking Miletus, the man's chocolate-brown eyes blown wide. "C'mon, Riz, wake up. I've got something to show you."

Rizo shook his head, cradling it with a low moan. "Why in the hell did you get me up this early, Mil?"

The engineer snorted, grabbing what looked like a metal cylindrical container off of his desk. "It's the afternoon, genius."

Rizo raised a speculative eyebrow, turning his head to look out of the barred window and to the gleaming frozen wasteland outside, sparkling in the dim sunlight. "So it is. Still, what's so important that you woke up the disabled patient?" He pouted, batting his eyelashes up at Miletus with a helpless look. The man chuckled, ruffling his hair in an annoyingly familiar way and seating himself in the rolling chair, cradling the container. Rizo propped himself up on his elbows, leaning closer to study the swirling silver inside. "What is it?

Miletus grinned, looking self-satisfied and proud. "_They_ are Nanobots."

Rizo scoffed, the name sparking a memory of late nights and textbooks. "Nanobots? You mean the technology of Nanorobotics?"

Miletus nodded, his bouncy curled brown hair getting stuck in the sweat built up on his forehead. "Yup, the very same. These little babies aren't made for surgery or drugs. They're made for… well, you'll have to find out when they're done, won't you?"

He snickered as Rizo pouted, inquisitive blue eyes trained on the swimming motions of the robots. "That's not nice, teasing me with these things." He thought for a moment, and dread blossomed at the back of Miletus' mind. "Wait… you said they aren't made for surgery- but they _could be_, right?"

Miletus sighed, slouching in his chair with a defeated expression. "I knew you were going to ask that," he grumbled, thick eyebrows pulled together. "And the answer is no. I'm not going to risk fucking you up when I try to help you, kid."

Rizo blinked, frowning thoughtfully. "Don't you think it would be worth it? This could take months to get over, without the proper equipment."

Miletus let out an "Oh, so now the kid's a god damn _surgeon._" under his breath, tapping out a beat with his fingertips on his stained jeans. "Alright, fine. You just promise me one thing, Riz."

He nodded, raising a blond eyebrow. "Yeah? What?"

Miletus sighed, rolling the container between his hands before rolling backwards and grabbing a syringe with a particularly large needle. He shook his head, emitting a tiny disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he whispered, turning back to the waiting man on the cot. "Don't blame me if this is even worse than falling to earth with a bunch of scrap metal."

Rizo gulped, shrinking backwards as Miletus tapped the syringe in his hand. "Fine, I promise. Now… you're not going to inject me, right? I think I might have been afraid of needles before."

Miletus gained a nasty grin, snickering as he leaned forward and waved the syringe threateningly. "Is the mighty invincible man afraid of a shot?"

Rizo crinkled up his nose, eyes darting from the needle to his bruised and battered body, then back again. Finally, with a sigh, he held out his arm, focusing on looking away from it. "Just do it, then."

Miletus smiled, eyes shuttering off as he tried not to focus on the meaty vein that just begged to be opened. "Good, I will." Rizo's yelp could surely be heard by the monsters of Invictus II miles away.

It started out as a slightly anticlimactic feeling of numbness and adrenaline, followed by the unnerving sense of something inside his body. He swallowed harshly, breathing through his nose and shutting his eyes as the Nanobots crawled through his bloodstream and spread out, their tiny metallic bodies working in harmony with his blood cells. They swarmed upon his largest injuries first, the breaks in his legs, and started to work, regenerating the bone with the sufficiency only machines could provide. Rizzo grunted out loud, choking back a desperate laugh at the bizarre and invasive squirming in his body. Miletus frowned in concern at his side, petting his hair like a child's. Rizzo darted his eyes up to focus on the man, grinning weakly. "Doesn't hurt, just feels weird," he managed to choke out before he felt the first half of his leg meld together. He yelped; clenching his hands into fists as the crack that came with the action surprised him.

Miletus chuckled, although the sound couldn't mask the worry and guilt in his eyes. "That should probably go away in a while. A few hours, and you won't even notice they're there."

Somehow, Rizo doubted it.

* * *

He was, thankfully, proven wrong. The sensation dulled until it was barely a tickle in his limbs, and the only thing that reminded him was the cracking in his legs every so often that signaled another part of his skeleton was mended. A few hours later, as Miletus sat tinkering on the neglected broken robot lying on his desk and sipped his tea absently, Rizo blinked, realizing with a start that the cracks were... gone. They hadn't sounded for a while now, and a few seconds after the thought popped up he felt the nanobots swarm to his torso, switching from mending his legs to the subject of his broken ribs. He coughed, admittedly letting out a whimper at the pang of pain that resounded from the movement. The sound had Miletus turning like he'd been burned, pushing off of his desk and stopping his chair with a hand on the cot's metal framework. "What? Did something go wrong?"

His voice was practically soaked in panic, and Rizo smiled in spite of himself, patting the man's hand condescendingly. "Really, Mil, I didn't know you cared." At the eat hot death look he sent him, Rizo gulped, laughing awkwardly. "It's nothing. They finished on my legs, and now they're working on the-" his voice was interrupted by a wince as a rib shifted back into place, "messed up ribs."

Miletus looked at him incredulously, studying the face of his charge, the man covered in a light sheen of sweat. "Fine. But you have to tell me if you experience anything out of the ordinary, all right?"

Rizo let out a real chuckle, the pain in his ribs dulled by the knowledge that tiny beings were working on it effortlessly. "How is any of this _ordinary?_"

Miletus blinked, rubbing the thin brown goatee on his chin with a contemplative expression. He shrugged with a laugh, turning back to his desk and swallowing the last of his tea with a satisfied sigh. "Good point, psuedo-Hercules."

From behind him, Rizo closed his eyes, dreaming of images that made no sense - giant spaceships, people milling about in red outfits, strange creatures and someone looking at him with the warmth of an emotion that was completely foreign to his entire being.

Love.

* * *

Miletus rubbed his temples, leaning back in his chair as he clicked off the lamp on his desk. What had he done? The Nanobots were experimental, he hadn't even tried them on himself yet! Add that to the fact that he'd given them to a _Starfleet issued Captain_, and if anyone ever found out, he'd be up the creek without a paddle - much less a boat - for sure. This was a completely skewed situation; he'd been serving out his sentence like a good little servant, and then this man, this needy unnerving invincible man had literally crashed his life plans! And he couldn't deny him, that would be a major sin, for one, and for two it was way below his standards. But still, in the quiet darkness of his tiny secluded room, he wondered if keeping a living, breathing, and unwitting person near him was such a good idea after all.

He let his eyes slip shut, tapping his foot on the ground in the pattern of an old Earth lullaby that his mother had sung long ago. The sound faded as sleep finally claimed him, and his fingers finally relaxed around the empty syringe in his hand.


	5. Creepy crawlies

_Trust me_  
_ There's no need to fear_  
_ Everyone's here_  
_ Waiting for you to finally be one of us_

_ Come down_  
_ You may be full of fear_  
_ But you'll be safe here_  
_ When you finally trust me_  
_ Finally believe in me_

_- Let You Down, Three Days Grace_

_

* * *

_

Wow, guys. Four reviews, seven favorites, four alerts and over three hundred hits in three days? I'm flattered. Also, seeing as I haven't done it yet: Star Trek and Captain Kirk, sadly, do not belong to me. But Miletus does, yay! Review even if you hate it!

* * *

The next morning brought a wave of nausea when his eyes fluttered open, and he managed to roll over before he threw up uncontrollably. Miletus jerked awake, shaking his head and clutching the grey shirt over his heart as he turned to him. "Jesus, Riz, what's wrong?" When no answer was readily offered, he rolled his eyes, scrunching up his nose as the smell hit him like a brick. "I'll go get something to clean that up… keep breathing, kid."

Rizo laughed weakly, eyes clenched closed with pain. "Don't call… me kid," he managed to get out before he coughed, the sound scratchy and hard on the ear.

Miletus hummed, shaking his head as he walked out of the room and entered the main area of the beaten station. "Kid's puking everywhere and he's still an ass."

Rizo chuckled from behind him, smiling to himself as he tried to breathe through his mouth. "Aw, I didn't know you paid attention to my ass, Mil!"

A few minutes later, and Rizo was seated upright in the cot, stretching his limbs and staring in wonder as he felt no pain. "Holy… it really worked."

Miletus copied his grin, absently helping the finally fixed guard robot off of the desk and out the door. "I'm glad. I was worried they might've accidentally disintegrated for all I know about the Bots."

Rizo's head snapped up, eyes wide as his mouth hung open a bit. Miletus burst out laughing, and Rizo narrowed his eyes at him, pouting. "Man, that's not cool. I don't even know who I am, and you're making it seem like these things could _eat me?_" Just those two words were enough, bringing back flashes of memory like whispers on the wind – a giant red monster chasing him, the snowy landscape of a planet he'd been forced onto, and the strongest pulses of pure emotion hitting him like bullets. He let out a shaky sigh, blinking hard enough to cause tiny bursts of light in front of his eyes. As he came back to reality, Miletus was staring at him worriedly, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"Rizo? _Riz!_ You in there?" Rizo shook his head, nodding whilst Miletus slumped back in his seat and groaned, covering his face with a grimy hand. "You're going to give me a heart attack with all of these zone-outs and near-death experiences, you know that?"

All he could do was laugh.

As Miletus scurried around the base under the watchful eye of the guard robots, Rizo waited for him in the pseudo-bedroom, marveling at the feeling of not having casts on his legs and being able to use them. The next time Miletus rushed past the room, Rizo called out, causing the slightly older man to curse as he stumbled and turned back. "_What?_"

Rizo snickered, running a hand through his hair as he pushed off of the bed and stretched. "Look! You're creepy crawlies worked!" Miletus goggled at him, mouth gaped open wide enough to let more than a few flies in.

Rizo raised an eyebrow, stepping towards him and tapping the man on the temple. "Miletus?" He blinked, before a grin split his face. "Hah, I'm taller than you!"

_That_ snapped him out of his trance, and the engineer glared, a grimace slashed across his face. "Yeah, that's the thing that grabs your attention. Not 'oh my god, I'm walking!' or 'oh my god, thank you so much for magically curing me, Miletus!'" Even the closest guard robot shot him a blankly amused glance at that, and Rizo outright laughed, raising a hand to ruffle the shorter man's hair.

"You're a curly haired, shrimpy, slightly grumpy engineer…"

Miletus looked properly offended, starting to turn away. "_But_ you're also all that I have. And luckily, you're pretty good." He swiveled back at that, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming bus. "So, thank you, Mil. For everything." A cherry tomato red blush stole across his cheeks, and Miletus coughed, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly with a shrug.

"Yeah, well, you're not too bad yourself… you overgrown trouble magnet." He smirked, punching the blond on the shoulder. To his surprise, Rizo dodged, the man blinking before letting out a soft 'whoa!' just as Miletus frowned and shot another punch at him, this time towards his face. Once again, he jerked sideways, narrowly missing the punch. Miletus stumbled, the force of the missed blow traveling up his arm and ruining his balance. With a short laugh and a grin, he ran his hand over his face, eyes sparkling with amazement. "The Nanobots have improved your reflexes. This is unheard of in any study, I really must write this down…"

As Miletus droned on, Rizo gulped, staring down at his hands as they shook slightly. This wasn't right… he hadn't wanted to move. He'd seen the blow coming and waited for the pain, before something in him jerked his body sideways to avoid the hit. It hadn't been him. It had been the _bugs._

_

* * *

_

Rizo idly sat at one of the cold metal tables in the main area of the base, rolling a pencil back and forth on its flat surface before letting out a frustrated sigh. "What do I look like, Miletus?"

Miletus stilled from his hunched over position on the opposite side of the desk, hand and pen stopping before it could finish dotting the I of the word 'incredible'. The British man looked up, curiosity entering his eyes. He tapped his pen on the pad of yellowed paper settled on the table, before standing up abruptly and smiling. "I'll go get you a mirror." He walked to a small chest by the door to the bedroom, opening it with a tune hummed under his breath. Pulling out a tiny compact mirror held within a pale gold case with the name Bochco embroidered on its underside, he got up, turning and walking back to Rizo before handing it to him. Rizo's eyes shot from Miletus to the mirror like ping-pong balls, before he licked his cracked lips and snatched it. He opened the case with quavering hands, examining himself in the reflection with rapt interest.

The eyes caught his gaze first. Blue, like aquamarine or a clear sky. The color jolted another memory out of him, like an electric shock. A mother's disappointed face, the silhouette of a fading sibling, the bottom of a jagged canyon rushing closer and closer, feelings of _sadness anger it's not fair, _and blows dulled by the knowledge that something would save him.

Eventually.

Shifting his gaze back to Miletus' excited face, he swallowed thickly, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. The fact that the Nanobots quickly sealed up the cut didn't escape his attention. "I think I liked it better when I didn't remember anything."


	6. Kill a million

_Step out the front door like a ghost_  
_ Into the fog where no one notices_  
_ The contrast of white on white._  
_ And in between the moon and you_  
_ Angels get a better view_  
_ Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right._  
_ And I walk in the air between the rain, through myself and back again_  
_ Where? I don't know_  
_ Well, Maria says she's dying_  
_ Through the door I hear her crying_  
_ Why? I don't know_

_- Round Here, Counting Crows_

_

* * *

_

If you'll please direct your attention to the earlier chapters, you'll see that the location has changed due to some plot shifts. c: This will give me some more workspace, as I'll have my own planet to use - which sounds wrong in hindsight... anyway, enjoy this chapter? Review even if you hate it!_  
_

_

* * *

_

The planet of Invictus II was somewhere that not many would ever like to visit. It was known for its freezing climate and notoriously high rate of mysterious disappearances – but what most didn't know, was that the planet was not just a planet. It was one of the official planets for the dumping of criminals for punishment. And thus, the story of how exactly Miletus got stuck on that rotating hunk of arctic cold rock was born.

_He sat in the cell like a caged animal, eyes darting from the door to the scrap of cloth they called a cot. The cold metal of the floor seeped through his skin, seemingly cooling his very core. The wild screams and chuckles of the other prisoners echoed off of the walls like the screeches of dying bats, and he dug his fingernails into his scalp, squeezing his eyes shut. Focus, focus… there! That's where it went wrong._

_That little brat Gabriel had whined and pouted until he'd finally let her come with him to the checkpoint. And then she just had to turn out to be an extremist, didn't she? God, how he hated her. Good thing the explosion had offed her… as well as Rizo. Why did he have to die? Why couldn't fate be satisfied with the lives of everyone else? Why one of the three people who had ever understood him?_

_The explosion set his nerves alight, and his eyes stuck to it like a child's first sighting of a roller coaster. The first major blast of it rocked their escape shuttle, and he let a tiny, fragile smile grace his face. It wasn't all bad; after all, he could always find another 'friend'. It was worth it in the end; all of those bastards would burn for their terrible experiments. All of those children, those animals, the cripples – he'd had to stop it. So what if a few innocents were killed along the way? His aim wasn't that perfect, plus he had always been more of an extravagant man himself. Guns and phasers just didn't suit his tastes, so building the miniature bomb had been easy and enjoyable. Of course, he hadn't realized that they'd put the damn thing where he was working. They'd probably bet on the chance of him dying in the resulting blast, but he was just too much of a stubborn bastard for that._

_He should have known not to deal with them. They'd been too inhuman, too cold and critical, words sharp and eyes frigid. They'd never even given him their name! Admittedly, not one of his brightest choices, but it'd been a better option than to sit by and let them torture innocents to make their products for the rich and famous._

_The one thing that had shifted all of this, this balance between the money being good and the moral reasons had been that one child. A disabled one, wheeled in with a frightened expression and a stick figure of a frame. He'd looked much too much like Rizo, the same beady, intelligent eyes staring at him as they pushed him past, as if he was screaming for help without the need for a voice. His will had cracked and bent, unseemly but usable. And so here he was, sitting here in a rusty cell covered in a light dusting of tranquilizer particles, for the sole reason that he'd done what was right._

_Hell, he'd never try that again._

_

* * *

_

Waking up from a nightmare is never easy. For those who haven't ever had a nightmare, the best way to describe it would be this: whatever is happening, you cannot stop it. No matter how hard you try, no matter how fast you run, no matter how desperate your screams become, _you cannot stop it. _It's a most disturbing sensation, unable to do anything but stand there and take it. This is the circumstance Rizo dreams, but it's much worse than a simple night terror. These images, these sensations, they're all much too real. The colors paint pictures of blood, metal, planets and devastation. One in particular catches his attention – it's him, apparently, running through the glinting emerald insides of a roaring ship, the walls shaking with every attack. He's breathing heavily, eyes frantic as he skids to a stop and ducks behind a jagged edge of the wall. Heavy footsteps follow him, and he tries to stifle his breathe until they pass him.

It doesn't work. A menacing man with inky black tattoos and pointed ears rounds the corner, a sick grin on his face. His breath catches in his throat, before he narrows his eyes, tightening his grip on the phaser in his trembling hands. "I'm not scared of you, Nero."

The creature – for he could not be a man – stops in his advance, tilting his head with a curious look entering his gaze. "Really?" His grin teeters out to a tiny smirk, dark eyes glinting dangerously. "Are you sure of that?"

The next thing he knows his legs are out from under him and his chin hits the floor as what sounds like hundreds of explosions go off against the crippled hull of the ship. His eyes shoot open from their cringed squinting position, and he barely manages a scream before half of the devastated ship is pulled through a worm hole.

Rizo woke up from the murky vision with a light film of sweat covering his body, and he shivers, trying to calm his frantic breaths. He notices that Miletus isn't in the room, but the door is cracked open, a thin stream of light filtering in. He rubs his eyes with a relieved chuckle, getting up and swinging his legs off of the bed as he trundles out of the room, stopping just behind Miletus with a sneaky grin on his face. He tries to focus on being quiet, the scheme distracting his brain from what the nightmare could possibly mean. Just as he gets within an inch of his friend, the engineer jerks upright, a fist springing backwards to clock him in the nose.

Rizo yelped, holding his nose and feeling a thin trickle of blood get out from between his fingers. "Honestly, Mil, remind me not to sneak up on you." The engineer turns his head to him with a half stunned, half frightened look, and it's more distressing than twenty dreams could ever be. He steps a bit closer, worry overcoming anger. "Miletus?" The man looks haggard and worse for wear as he rubs a hand over his face, stopping to scratch at his chin wearily. Rizo notices that there is dried blood on his fingernails and scratch marks on his scalp and temples. When the seated man speaks, his voice is tired and monotone, as if waiting for a death sentence.

"Have you ever heard the quote, 'Kill one person, you're a murderer. Kill a million people, and you're a tyrant. Kill everyone, and you're a god.'?"

The blond man gulps with wide eyes and shakes his head, blinking in astonishment at the off-beat question. Miletus just sighs, a bone aching sound that makes him want to reach out and help the other any way he can.

"I'm sorry to say that I can be considered a tyrant, Rizo."


	7. Understand

_I still recall _  
_ The taste of your tears_  
_ Echoing your voice _  
_ Just like the ringing in my ears_  
_ My favorite dreams of you _  
_ Still wash ashore_  
_ Scraping through my head _  
_ 'Till I don't want to sleep anymore_

_- Something I Can Never Have, NIN_

_

* * *

_

Hey everyone! As always, Star Trek doesn't belong to me, but Miletus and the planets mentioned do! Also, please review, even if you don't like it - it feeds my desire to write. c: So, if you want more chapters faster, review! And now, on to the new (slightly tarty) chapter! **edit:** Previous chapters have been edited for more readability!

* * *

He swallows thickly, the silence that settles around them like a thick, choking fog. It's colder than the frigid air of Invictus II, and the hidden pain it brings seems like a wound to the heart. "What... what do you mean?" He manages to croak out as he backs up like a frightened child. Miletus bites his lip, eyes simultaneously worried and... accepting. As if he _knew _this rejection was coming, was expecting it all along - and that hurts more, the sting of the breaking of such a fragile trust. "You're not a tyrant, Miletus. Not in front of me." The engineer blinks, slowly getting up from his chair and walking towards his friend. Rizo flinches, backing up so quickly that he hits the wall. Miletus stops, eyes darting from the blond's frightened expression to his clenched fists. "Now, tell me what you mean." There's more authority in his voice now, like a strict teacher or parent, but the redhead knows it's all an act. It's a shield of bravado, and it's annoying that after he's done so much, a mere _experiment _can still manage to stand up to him. With a sigh, Miletus straightens up, eyes cold and distant, unlike the man Rizo had come to know and rely on.

"Alright. You want to know? Fine, but you won't like it." He breathes out heavily through his nostrils, and clicks his teeth together in an attempt to gather up the courage to speak that has fled. "It was about... a year and a half ago, now. I was working on the scientific Colony number zero-two-seven-four-nine, located on one of Hirvald Beta's moons. I was working in one of the engineering wings, and a few weeks after my team docked, my fellow workers started disappearing."

The other man shivered, like an animal trapped in a nightmare. "Disappearing?"

Miletus frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Yes. I was behind it. You see, I found out some information that ultimately led to the event that earned me a thirty-five year sentence on this planet. The Colony had started importing what you would consider slaves." Rizo's eyes widened, and he tried to hide the tremble that coursed up his spine. "They were the outcasts of their planets, the old, injured and weak. Nothing more than _freaks _in their societies. So, the Colony bought them and experimented on them."

"Experimented?" His voice cracked, and his pupils were the size of dimes.

Bochco nodded mutely as one of the robots near the door moved, turning a corner with it's version of a grimace. "Yes, experimented. They tested different serums, cures, and sometimes even poisons on them. All in the name of science, from their point of view." Miletus let out a disgusted scoff, nose scrunching up in his distaste. "And we had to watch, myself and my friends. _We_ knew, they _all _knew, but what did they do about it? Nothing! So, I had to make a stand. I had to _fix it._ Don't you see?"

His voice was desperate, and Rizo blinked, teetering on the edge of disbelief. Finally, he nodded, and his would be savior's face broke out into a smile that lifted the tension like the dawn. "Yes, I see. You had to do something. But... what did you do?"

Miletus chuckled, but his eyes looked suspiciously wet. "I made a deal with a group of radicals. Destroy the base, save the experiments. All for the price of... me."

Rizo jerked forward like a puppet who'd had his strings cut. "_You?"_

Miletus' smile enlarged, and after a moment stepped forward, lifting a hand to rest it on his 'friend's' shoulder. "Don't worry about it, they didn't do any damage. Just had me promise to do it myself. I _knew _I'd get caught eventually, but I didn't expect Starfleet to be so quick on the uptake."

Starfleet.

_red outfits Kobayashi Maru late nights bars girls "Study my ass..."_

He gasped, and Miletus jumped, hand clamping painfully down on his shoulder. "What? What is it, Rizo?" _Not another one. Please, don't let me lose this one too!_

Rizo shook his head, breath coming in short gasps. He held up a finger, clenching his hands into fists and biting his tongue until the images and voices slowed to a stop and he could feel again. "I'm OK... I'm OK."

Miletus offered him a tremulous grin, and licked his lips. "Good. Well, now you know. I've killed thousands of people, Rizo. _Thousands._ Do you understand now? I'm practically the dictionary definition of evil!"

Rizo hummed, brilliant blue eyes considering. They felt like they were judging him, and Miletus' bravado shrunk under that hawk-like gaze. "I understand. I know that most would consider what you did as wrong... but I understand better now. You did it to _save_ them, Mil, not to damn them."

A solitary robot watched from his corner, and weighed the differences between right and wrong in ounces.

* * *

"It was about... a year and a half ago, now. I was working on the scientific Colony number zero-two-seven-four-nine, located on one of Hirvald Beta's moons. I was working in one of the engineering wings, and a few weeks after my team docked, my fellow workers started disappearing." "Disappearing?" "Yes. I was behind it. You see, I found out some information that ultimately led to the event that earned me a thirty-five year sentence on this planet. The Colony had started importing what you would consider slaves. They were the outcasts of their planets, the old, injured and weak."

One of the most respected Captains in the fleet sat back in his chair and watched the report, a smug grin slowly transforming his face.

"Interesting... very interesting."

Invictus II garnered attention, that's for sure.


End file.
